Okay so this definitely has a massive trigger warning so sorry about that.
Cutting carrots.
1,2,3,4,5,6.
Switch hands.
1,2,3,4,5,6.
Switch hands again.
1,2,3... that ones not even. Throw it all away.
1,2,3,4,5-
"Tyler!" Slip up, bleeding wrist. What does Josh want.
It's not correct.
Knife sharp. Just to make it right.
2,3,4,5,6,7,9. Up forearm. Has to be deeper each time.
Hands shaky. Arms look different. No, NO, NO.
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9. Other arm. Just to make it even.
Make 8th deeper. Just so it's right.
Blood on the counter. As long as it's not on the floor.
Pain. Need something to help with the pain.
Paracetamol is over there.
Supposed to take two. Two isn't right.
Try, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9.
"Tyler are you in the kitchen?" Rest arms on counter. Can't get blood on floor, floor has to stay clean.
"Oh my God Tyler!" Footsteps, Josh? You can't step on the cracks in the tiles, josh.
"Please be okay." Blacking out.
Doesn't he usually say I love you?
223 words.
Sorry I got a little carried away there... I was going to have a happy ending because when this sort of thing happens to me I obviously don't die (tend to stay away from painkillers too) but then my brain was like, "or... or... or... you could attempt to make yourself and others emotional wreaks.". So now I'm emotional.
YOU ARE READING
1,2,3 OCD (Joshler)
FanfictionIt's hard to explain. Sometimes it's multiples of three. If you touch with one hand you have to touch with the other. Don't step on the cracks in the pavement. Fit things together like your life is Tetris. Measure the inches around your stomach and...
